Malcolm was eating breakfast when his mail arrived. Unlike everyone else's mail, the owl dropped his letters in a neat pile, next to his arm.
"How do you get the owls to do that?" Ginny asked as she pulled her letter out of the oatmeal.
"Corn nuts," Malcolm answered, "I went to the owlery and bribed them. After all, every letter I send goes a lot further than anyone else."
Ginny smiled at the thought, and leaned over out of curiosity.
"It's from my brother, Francis," Malcolm said, showing Ginny the letter. "Oh, Great! He says all the guys at his school send their congratulations."
"Do you mean, he told them about you?" Ginny asked.
"I mean, yeah," Malcolm answered.
"Malcolm?" Ginny asked, looking at the letter. "Why does he want to know if you can magically reattach a human head?"
"Probably some school project," Malcolm said, shrugging his shoulders.
[I hope it's a school project.]
"Excuse me, Malcolm," Hermione interrupted, "Do you say your brother told everyone at his school that you are a wizard?"
"Yeah," Malcolm said, "It's right here in his letter. My brother, Reese, is doing the same thing."
"Malcolm," Hermione said, taking a lecturing tone, "You are aware that muggles are not supposed to know about magic except in certain circumstances."
"That's okay," Malcolm replied, "My mom took care of it. She told everyone that I went crazy, and I'm in a mental ward."
Hermione stared in shock, as did Harry and Ron, and half the table. Ginny, and EJ, were the exceptions. They started laughing out loud. Neville, who had walked in on the scene, smiled as he sat down, saying, "another happy day at the Institute."
Harry recovered first, asking, "Does everyone believe you're crazy?"
"I do," mouthed Ron.
"Everyone, even Reese," Malcolm answered.
"Wait a minute," Ron said, "How could that stupid idiot brother of yours believe you are crazy, when he was there on the train, and at the school?"
[Wow, he answered his own question and doesn't even know it.]
"Could you repeat the first part of that question?"
"How could that stupid . . . Oh, never mind," Ron finished.
"Malcolm showed us the letter he got from his mother," Ginny said, "We are all patients at the Hogwarts Institute for the Education of Emotionally Disturbed Youths."
"Here, Malcolm," said a voice from behind, "Stevie asked me to give you this."
Dewey handed Malcolm a letter, and ran out of the Great Hall yelling "Peeves, wait up."
"Who was that?" almost everyone asked.
"That's my little brother, Dewey. If my mom finds out he skipped school he'll be in trouble. Oh, sorry, different time zones. He has at least five hours to get there."
"But how did he get here?" Hermione asked, beating out everyone else.
Malcolm shrugged his shoulders and went back to eating breakfast. In the surprise of meeting Dewey, no one thought to ask him about the letter.
"You found the trick step, I see," said Madam Pomfrey, as she waved her wand over Malcolm's leg. "It's only a sprain, I'm afraid. Not enough to keep you out of class." She waved the wand, pointing it at the ankle, and said, "You can go to class, now."
Grateful, Malcolm walked out without any pain. He stopped and turned back to ask, "Madam Pomfrey?"
"You have your note, go on to class."
"I wanted to ask, about the way you healed my ankle. Can you heal anything?"
"Almost anything, Malcolm. What were you planning on doing?"
"It isn't me, Madam Pomfrey. I have a friend, Stevie..."
"Is it congenital. If he was born with his condition, then the answer is no, he can't be healed. You know Harry Potter? He was born nearsighted, which is why he wears glasses. Had his eyes been injured, we could have repaired the damage. Do you understand?"
Malcolm nodded his head, and began to leave when Madam Pomfrey called him back.
"You should know, Malcolm, you are not the first person to ask me that question. You are not even the first person this year. Every student knows someone, a friend, a cousin, even a brother. I am sorry."
[That's what I hate most about all of this. Life IS unfair.]
"What did I miss, EJ?" whispered Malcolm as he sat down.
"Nothing," his friend answered, "Professor Binns is talking about the Reforms following the Goblin Revolts, I think. I haven't been paying attention."
"Excuse me," Professor Binns asked, "Why are you talking in my class?"
"It's my fault, Professor," Malcolm said, "I was late to class, and was asking what I had missed. My friend was letting me know that we were discussing the Goblin Reforms."
"Were we?" Professor Binns asked. "I thought we did that last week. My notes for today are on the first Anglo-French treaty on magical trade items. How late have you been?"
"I've been sick, Sir."
"He was turned into a newt, Sir," EJ added helpfully.
"I see that you are better," Professor Binns said, "now please sit down."
Professor Binns continued with his lecture, failing to notice that several students did not even wake up during the interruption. Meanwhile, Malcolm tried to figure out, why everyone thought it funny that he had gotten better.
Professor Snape walked into his classroom to find a young boy with a crew cut standing by his desk.
"May I help you?" The Professor asked.
"No," Dewey said, and kept looking at the desk.
"May I ask what you are doing in here?" Snape asked irritably.
"Nothing," Dewey said, then pointed at something on the desk, "What's that?
"It's a dried Toad," came the answer, "Now, will you please leave?"
Dewey shook his head no, and pointed again, "What's that?"
"That is ground Bezoar," Snape answered, "and the door is over there if you are having trouble finding it."
"I'm fine," Dewey answered, pointing again. "What's that?"
"That is still a dried Toad," the Potions Teacher said angrily, "I've had enough from you, young man. Get out of my classroom, NOW."
"Excuse me," Dewey said.
"I told you," Snape began, but then the flatulent smell hit him. He closed his mouth and walked away from his desk.
A group of students walked in, and one of them said, "Woah! What died in here?"
The laughter died when a certain professor cleared his throat. "For that remark, Mr. Malfoy, You may sit right there."
Draco followed Snape's finger to the student desk, right behind Dewey. He swallowed hard, then took a deep breath, before walking to his assigned seat. As he went to sit done, Peeves came flying in yelling, "Found you, found you. Now I have a turn."
Peeves flew out of the room with Dewey running after him shouting, "Remember, no hiding in the walls."
Madame Hooch called the class to order. "Hold your right hand out over the broom, and shout, 'Up.'"
Malcolm did as he was told, and was pleased when he found himself holding the broom. He looked around and saw he was one of the few to do it on the first try. He had to wait until everyone had their brooms, but then the next part of the lesson began,
"Class, mount your broom," Madam Hooch ordered. "You will kick off lightly, then lean forward. This will take you up, but only a little. You will then pull back on the broom, and land. Does everyone understand?"
After the third repetition, everyone understood enough to say yes. Malcolm kicked of and leaned forward. He rose slowly until he was about five feet in the air. Then he felt a sudden lurch.
"Malcolm," Madame Hooch called, "What is the problem? Oh, dear, everyone get away from him. No, Penelope," she yelled, "You're going downwind."
"I feel terrible," Malcolm said, "I don't know what happened."
"Let's put it this way, everyone knows what you had for breakfast," E.J. said, "You should be thankful that Madame Hooch cleaned your robes for you."
"I meant that I didn't know why. I know what I did, I can still smell it," Malcolm said, feeling nauseous, again.
E.J. opened the door to the infirmary for Malcolm, then closed it and ran away. He did not want to be around for the second show. In the distance, he could hear Madame Pomfrey say, "Don't worry, Malcolm, we'll get you cleaned up."